


Smutember Day 23: Animalistic Tendencies

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Bestiality, F/M, Plate death, Tetraphilia, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: An AU in which Belle told the Beast she loved him too late....





	Smutember Day 23: Animalistic Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless monster fucking *shrugs*  
> Submission for Tumblr's Smutember event

The Beast had been bitter for a while now. Angry, too, that Belle had waited too long to tell him she loved him, that the last petal of the rose had fallen before she had declared her feelings.

He'd told her everything: How, as an 11 year old boy he'd refused a witch entry to the castle, and how she'd repaid him by enchanting him and his servants.

Belle thought it unfair that the witch had cursed him for such a petty reason. As an 11 year old, she wouldn't have let a stranger into her home either. Some witches were just looking for an excuse these days.

She'd tried to soothe the Beast, but it had been to no avail. He'd shut himself away in the most remote tower in the castle, refusing to speak to anyone: not even Cogsworth or Lumiere.

The servants treated Belle coldly too when they weren't being distant, no doubt holding her responsible for their continued enchantment. But how could she have known?

Mrs Potts didn't say anything unpleasant, but she wasn't as warm towards Belle as she had been, and most of the time Belle ended up preparing her own meals, shunned by the furniture. At least the plates were somewhat cooperative.

She would leave a plate outside the Beast’s door every time she cooked, but more often than not it would be untouched when she returned to collect it.

After a week, Belle had had enough. This state of affairs couldn't go on. The Beast was sunk in depression, starving himself. Some nights she'd heard him on the ramparts, roaring his misery into the night.

Today, instead of taking his full plate away, she banged on the door.

“Open up!” she called. “I want to talk to you.”

He didn't reply, and she battered the wood with more force, removing a shoe and using the heel to get more volume.

She heard him moving around in the small room, the hefty shift of his huge body like a subdued avalanche, but he didn't reply.

“Beast, please!” she begged. “You're making yourself ill!”

There was a long silence, before finally the rumble of his voice, subdued by self-pity and weak from hunger, filtered through the solid door.

“I want to die….”

Belle sighed.

“Don't be silly…” she said in a softer tone. “You mustn't die! I'd be so sad if you did. I told you: I love you!”

“But too late,” he responded mournfully. “You waited too long and now I'm trapped in this ugly form forever!”

Belle leaned her forehead against the wood, frustrated by his stubbornness.

“You're not ugly,” she said. “Not to me.”

“But to the rest of the world….!” protested the Beast.

“Fuck the rest of the world!” snapped Belle, at the end of her tether. “We don't need them!”

She heard his footsteps, surprisingly light for his size, approach the door from the other side.

When his voice came, it was hesitant yet held an element of hope.

“You love me like this?”

“Yes!”

She was trying hard not to get exasperated but she wasn't sure how to convince him.

“But…” he faltered. “As a friend, yes? Or a pet?”

“No.”

Belle took a deep breath.

“Let me in, Beast, and I'll tell you something about me you ought to know…”

 

There was a threadbare couch, it's finery long since faded, but he chose not to sit on it. He huddled on the floor, a rough blanket around his shoulders.

His fur was matted and snarled, his eyes dull, the smell coming from him thick and musky.

Belle sat on the floor in front of him, arranging her skirt over her knees fussily, reluctant to meet his gaze.

“When I was a little girl, I read a book,” she began. “It was about a princess who’d been stolen away from her kingdom by a dragon. A prince came to rescue her - as princes do - and he killed the dragon. Married the princess. They lived happily ever after.”

She dared to peep up at him, feeling shy in his company now. He had a huge presence that seemed to broadcast itself 10 feet around him, announcing him before he appeared. He would never be able to sneak up on her: She would feel him approach. She felt him now, brooding and powerful, filling the room.

He didn't reply, but watched her with interest.

“I was sad when the dragon was killed,” she continued. “He wasn't unkind to the princess. And he only stole her because her parents, the King and Queen, didn't keep a bargain with him. He brought peace and prosperity to their kingdom, vanquished their foes, but when he said he wanted their daughter in return for his services, they refused.”

Belle shrugged.

“I was on the dragon's side. Later on in life, I read a story about a troll who lived in the.mountains. People were scared of him and whenever he came near the village they threw stones at him and drove him away. He got angry and started refusing passage through the mountains to travellers. One day, a young peasant girl wanted to use the mountain pass to search for herbs to heal her sick parents. Of course, the troll wouldn't let her through and was going to eat her, but she persuaded him to set her a riddle instead in return for her passage. She solved it by tricking him and he eventually fell to his death and everyone rejoiced because she'd rid the kingdom of the troublesome troll.”

Belle fiddled with the fabric of her dress, pleating the cloth and smoothing it out, feeling awkward.

“I hated the story. The girl was so smug, so superior. And I thought….I thought there might have been another way she could have persuaded the troll…”

She trailed off. The Beast was looking confused.

Belle stood up, brushing the dust from her skirts.

“Come and have supper with me in the main hall,” she wheedled. “I'll cook your favourite, and we can talk some more.”

The Beast nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.

 

He'd cleaned himself up, she noted: Bathed, and brushed his fur. Donned clean garments. His massive shoulders strained at the seams of the coat he wore and, as always, the evidence of his bulk make her feel tiny in comparison.

He greeted her with a curt nod, looking around the deserted hall.

“Where are the servants?” he asked.

“I dismissed them,” lied Belle.

They were still largely ignoring her, but she didn't want the Beast to know lest he got angry. Besides, she didn't want them there: The flamboyant Lumiere schmoozing around the table top leering at them; Cogsworth being all uptight, looking down his nose at them; Mrs Potts with her prim disapproval. The teapot was in no position to be a prude, being a single mother with dozens of children. She neglected most of them too, spending all her care and attention on her favourite, Chip.

Shaking off her annoyance at their judgement Belle gestured towards the empty seat nearest her. She'd roasted a haunch of venison, knowing how much the Beast loved deer meat. His nose twitched at the aromas drifting from the covered plates, and she heard his stomach rumble in appreciation.

They ate without talking, the Beast sating his hunger, attacking the meal ravenously after his period of fasting.  Belle hadn't bothered to give him cutlery, and happily watched him pick up chunks of meat with his hands and tear mouthfuls off with his sharp teeth.

Once he was full, he remembered his manners, looking somewhat abashed as he wiped his hands and face on a napkin, mopping the grease and meat juices up.

He glanced across at her. She was smiling indulgently, pleased he was eating again, and it was only then that he noticed she was wearing the gold dress she'd worn when they'd danced together.

“You look so beautiful in that dress,” he commented sadly.

His eyes misted nostalgically, and Belle sensed his poor spirits returning. He was beginning to look downhearted again, the hope that had once sustained him long dissipated.

“Don't be so sad,” said Belle. “We can dance again…”

He shook his head.

“It's not right. Before, there was a chance that I could return to my human form. Now all is lost. You should leave, Belle. Find yourself a real man to spend your life with. One who can give you children and make you happy.”

“But you can do both of those things, Beast,” said Belle quietly.

He looked taken aback, the significance of what she'd said sinking in slowly.

“You're more of a man than anyone else in that village,” she went on. “More intelligent, more noble, more caring...more handsome.”

The Beast shook his head and opened his mouth to demur, but Belle hadn't finished.

“I'm glad you didn't change, Beast. Did you know that? I'm glad! This here - this is who I fell in love with, not some soft human Prince with a pageboy haircut and manicured nails! Don't you understand? You're rough and gentle, savage and sweet, man and animal, all wrapped up in one perfect package and I love you just as you are.”

There was silence, but for the sound of the plates shifting awkwardly on the table, evidently embarrassed at witnessing such a heartfelt moment.

“But Belle,” said the Beast. “Loving is one thing. Making love is another. You couldn't possibly wish to engage in that kind of….act...with me…”

He was watching her intently, looking for some clue in her expression, some hint that the thought disgusted her. It did not.

Belle stood, skirting the table to stand by him, resting her hand on his great shoulder. It looked tiny and vulnerable in contrast to his size, but the comparison made her shiver with delicious apprehension.

“Beast, I can assure you I'd be honoured to engage in it.”

She leaned forward to whisper into his huge hairy ear.

“In fact, I'd love it…”

He stared at her for a moment, apparently uncomprehending, but she watched the realisation spread across his face.

Wasting no time, Belle seated herself on the broad shelf of his lap, dwarfed by him, pressing her head to him, wrapping her arms as far around him as she could reach.

A low rumble resounded in his chest, the beginnings of a growl. He shifted uneasily in his seat, his paws tentatively coming to rest on her, one cradling the slender stalk of her neck, the other fastening on her hip. His breath was hot on the top of her head, stirring the strands of her hair.

They remained like that for a moment, until Belle, encouraged by his acceptance, began to unfasten the buttons of his fine, frilled shirt. The matt of his hair revealed by the widening gap was silky, and she entwined her fingers in it, stroking the swelling muscle beneath.

Again he shifted, but this time it was to alter her position on his lap. There was something beneath her, something stirred by the intimacy of their contact, pressing through the layers of her petticoats. It grew as she perched there, a rigid bar angled across the back of her thighs, it's heat palpable.

Belle had never been with a man before, but she'd seen the village lads swimming naked in the river once, and had seen what they bore between their legs. Other girls had been there too, spying and giggling as they hid in the bushes on the river bank, and she'd listened to their conversation.

“How do they work?” one of the younger girls had asked.

“They grow,” an older one had replied. “They grow and get hard when they want to rut.”

Disgusting, all the girls had agreed, though some of them had looked wistful.

Belle hadn't thought it disgusting. Belle had been inflamed by the sight of those harmless looking pieces of flesh that dangled and flopped around as the lads froliced. The homoeroticism of their playful splashing hadn't been lost on her either.

And now she was experiencing what the girls had talked about first-hand. The Beast had one of those things, and it had grown because of her.

Belle felt her heartbeat quicken at the evidence of her effect on the Beast, her cheeks growing hot at the thought. She buried her face in the dense fur of his chest, his heartbeat pounding against her lips. She wriggled on his lap, pressing down onto the hard thing there.

His chest hitched, his paw tightening on her hip, the claws at her neck dimpling her skin.

“Are you sure, Belle?” he grumbled, sounding hoarse even by his standards.

“I'm certain,” she replied, boldly plucking his hand from her hip and placing it on her breast.

With a great sigh his paw clenched, squeezing the delicate flesh he held. It sent a shock of arousal through her, a spike of lust that stabbed down from her chest to the tender area between her legs. She moaned into his fur, feeling strands adhere to her tongue.

The Beast caressed her as gently as he could, but with the power he possessed even the smallest movement was magnified tenfold. The pressure on her breast was heavy and solid, crushing her even as it warmed her skin, prickling the pout of her nipple to a hard peak.

“I want to feel you against my skin,” she murmured, arching her back to press herself into his palm.

Spurred on by her words, he fumbled ineffectually with the buttons at the back of her dress, huge fingers snagging the cloth with clumsy ineptness. He grew impatient, baring his teeth, working himself into a temper.

“Tear it, Beast!” urged Belle. “You have claws don't you?”

He faltered, perhaps unwilling to unleash that beastly aspect of himself, but Belle craned her neck, reaching up to plant a kiss on the underside of his muzzle, wriggling once more against his rampant hardness.

The Beast snarled, hooking his claws into the bodice of her pretty dress, shredding it. Belle gasped at the sound of ripping cloth, clinging to a fistful of his fur for support. He tore the front of her dress down to her waist, baring her blushing chest.

“Beautiful….” he muttered, feasting his eyes on her partial nudity with the same enthusiasm that he'd feasted on the venison.

His hand sought her again, dragging thin red lines on her pale skin, raking his claws over her. One caught on her nipple, flicking the rigid bud, making her jerk in his grasp.

“Oh yes, Beast,” she breathed.

He lifted her by the waist, throwing her back over his arm. Her head dangled, her hair come loose, the gold band securing it in place falling to the floor.

He lowered his face to her upturned chest, scalding tongue flicking out and licking a broad swathe across her breasts. He snuffled at her, teeth grazing her, drooling a wet path up to her throat and back down again. The scorch of his breath drew her blood to the surface, making every nerve ending tingle.

The introduction of his mouth sent a tremor through her, awakening dormant urges she hadn't known she possessed. She drooped back, hanging limp, made helpless by her desire.

“How I've dreamed of this,” he growled, lapping at her nipples, teasing the swollen nubs hungrily, pinching them dangerously between his fangs.

“As have I,” sighed Belle truthfully. “Tear the rest, Beast!”

With a grunt, he slid his free hand into the skirt of the ruined dress, snatching up a handful and rending it easily. Little puffs of silk fluttered to the floor, wisps of petticoat lace lodging on his claws. He slashed at the delicate stitches holding her dress together, parting the seams, and the garment slipped from her shoulders.

Incensed by her nakedness, the Beast rose, lifting her bodily. The plates on the table saw what was coming and tried to move out of the way but with a careless sweep of his arm he sent them to the marble tiles below, smashing them to smithereens, killing them instantly. Behind him, his chair scuttled off into the shadows of the corner to hide.

Setting Belle on the tabletop, her legs overhanging the edge, he gazed down at her in wonder, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted. Belle lay back, setting her spine against the smooth, polished surface. Beneath her, the table whimpered, self-conscious at its sudden involvement.

The Beast descended upon her once more, the new and delicious dish for him to devour, grasping her hips as his saliva dripped down onto her belly. Belle rolled her head to the side in bliss as his jagged edged mouth closed with unlikely gentleness over her, gaping wide to draw first one breast then the other into the maw, sucking on them till she felt raw. He was making small noises deep in his throat, hoarse growls and rumbles of appreciation.

He drew back, shrugging off his coat impatiently, the shirt coming off over his head with no thought for the tailoring. His chest heaved as the bright gleam of his eyes fixed onto her lower body, taking in the curve of her hips, the lush swell of her thighs. Licking his lips, the Beast laid his paws on her knees, parting her legs, drawn to the scented silk of that area between them. His nose twitched as he sniffed deeply, taking in the tang of her most secret place.

Belle drew in her breath in a sharp gasp, tilting her head back as she felt the wet velvet of his tongue touch her there, curling with slippery ease. It was longer than a human tongue would have been, and wider, covering her slit and her lips with one swoop, pressing between the tasty folds of flesh and spreading them. His paws curled, claws scraping at her buttocks, lifting her hips from the table to better fit her against his mouth.

Belle’s stomach hitched with each muscular swipe of his tongue, the limber extension of himself finding places she hadn't known existed. It penetrated her, spearing the juicy core of her pussy, squirming inside bit by bit until he'd filled her.

The Beast’s muzzle pressed into her groin, his nose snorting hot puffs of air rhythmically against the tender button above her cunt, assaulting it mercilessly. Belle twisted helplessly in his grip, throwing her legs over his shoulders.

The Beast let out a muffled roar, grabbing at her ankles, forcing her legs back, doubling her over to expose her more completely. Pinned there, her knees squashing into her breasts, he availed himself freely of her delights, extracting his tongue with slobbery relish and extending it to the neat dimple of her ass.

Belle mewled at this new attack, unaware that the forgotten hole could engender so much pleasure as he slurped unashamedly, tasting her earthy flavour and savouring it. The tip of his tongue flicked at the tight little ring, and it blossomed under his fervent attention, opening like a flower, allowing him access.

He began to lick her, slow and thorough, starting at the crease of her ass and tracing a burning line up over her pussy to end at the succulent little nub that pulled so much delight from her.

Belle was moaning unrestrainedly now, flinching at each wet lash of the invading muscle, lifting her hips as best she could to press herself to it.

Just as she thought she would faint from the ecstasy, he stopped, leaving her weeping with frustration. The Beast freed one hand, encircling her ankles easily with one paw, hoisting her lower back from the table.

She lifted her head to see him clawing at the front of his breeches. He was ripping the expensive cloth, baring that thing she'd felt underneath her as she'd sat on his lap.

It was huge, sticking out in front of him proudly, a fleshy bar of a darker shade than his fur: Hairless, naked looking, heavily veined with conical head, the weighty sack of his balls hung beneath.

He regarded her for a moment, seeming unsatisfied by something.

“What is it, Beast? What's wrong?” asked Belle.

“Forgive me, my love,” he growled, and flipped her over onto her belly.

The hard wood of the table top crushed the air from her momentarily, but as Belle became accustomed to the new position it's rightness was brought home to her.

He was a Beast - her Beast - and if they were to rut, they must do it as the wild animals in the woods did.

Scrambling obligingly up onto all fours, bruising her knees gladly in the process, Belle offered herself to him, wiggling her hips invitingly.

He responded with a snarl, taking her by the waist and mounting her, the pointed tip of his cock poking into the moist crevice of her pussy, finding its way home where it belonged.

Despite his eagerness, the Beast was careful with her, introducing the formidable thing to her cunt with forced gentleness, but his size still shocked her. The narrow part went in easily enough, it's passage eased by her wetness, but it widened from therein, stretching her open inexorably as he entered her.

Fingers curling on the tabletop, Belle braced herself, gritting her teeth, pushing back onto him when he hesitated. As more of his length sank into the tight channel, she groaned, splaying her knees apart, lifting the rounded peach of her ass to encourage him.

Panting, the Beast pushed the last inches in with a rush, his hairy belly pressed to her buttocks. Pausing to take in the sight before him, he observed the heightened state of her excitement. The creamy pearls of her juices gathered around the hungry mouth of her cunt where his girth penetrated, dripping down her thighs, matting in his fur.

Taking a firm hold of the meat of her buttocks in both hands, he rolled his hips back and plunged into her again.

His first thrust knocked Belle forward into her face and as she struggled to right herself he thrust again, tipping her over once more. Surrendering to the force of his motions Belle settled down to her ravishment with a contented sigh, laying her cheek upon her folded hands.

The Beast growled as he fucked her, rocking into her with carefully restrained vigour. His animal lust wanted to pound her with abandon but his affection checked that part of him, holding back so as not to hurt his delicate human flower.

Delicate or not, Belle wasn't immune to the more base aspects of their coupling, and as he battered her womb with the ram of his organ she cried out into the echoing vastness of the great hall, grinding back to accept the cock he fed into her ravenous cunt. A strange feeling was overtaking her, a rising warmth that began between her legs and spread outwards like the ripples in a pond, clenching her inner muscles tightly on the invading member.

“Oh!” she wailed in consternation, taken aback by the force with which these new sensations assailed her.

The Beast roared as he reached his own completion, the tips of his claws piercing her skin, wringing the last drops of resistance from her ravaged pussy, and Belle screamed as the growing tumult in her belly exploded softly, casting out like the seeds from a dandelion blown off the stalk by a gust of wind.

 

Outside the great hall, Mrs Potts,Cogsworth and Lumiere watched through a crack in the door, the shock of what they had witnessed still sinking in.

“I’m glad that they're happy,” said Cogsworth finally. “But it really makes no difference to us. We're doomed to remain in these accursed forms until our deaths!”

“Did you see what he did to the plates?” said Lumiere, still traumatised. “Some of them had families! Mon Dieu…..”

“And poor Reginald,” sighed Mrs Potts in disapproval, rattling her lid in sympathy with the table. “To be used like that!”

There was a noise from further down the hallway and they all turned round guiltily.

Chip was approaching, bouncing along in search of his mother, his base chinking against the marble floor as he hopped.

“What's going on, Mama?” he asked. “What are you all looking at?”

“Nothing, dear,” said his mother, quickly blocking the doorway. “There's just something…”

“What mama?”   
“There may be something there that wasn't there before.”   
“What is it, what's there?”   
“I'll tell you when you're older.”


End file.
